


Our Wretched Lot

by 00Wandering_Ghost00



Series: Once Bitten, Twice as Bad [2]
Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: #whatamidoingwithmylife, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ancestor Spirits, Angst and Feels, Blood Drinking, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Halloween, Horror, Please Don't Kill Me, Pure sadness, Some Humor, Vampire Hunters, Vampires, Werewolves, wolfy cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-10 04:08:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12290919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/00Wandering_Ghost00/pseuds/00Wandering_Ghost00
Summary: History nerd, and distant descendant of a certain Major of the American Revolution, Edward Herschel-Hewlett travels around the US to revisit the sites of his ancestor's life. He meets a curious pair on his journey, and starts to question everything he learned about the world, when he sees pictures of the same married couple in one of his history books...about 200 years ago. Meanwhile, he hears rumours about strange disappearances and bodies discovered, completely bloddless and partially eaten by some large predator... And for some reason, everytime he hears a rumour like that, a certain tall, red haired man with striking blue eyes, along with his petite, pale, beautiful wife is always seem to be present...





	1. Prologue: It Begins Where It Ends

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there!  
> This fic is a sort of sequel to my previous Halloween-themed TURN fic, titled "Howl at the Moon". It will contain quite bloody scenes, and lots of sadness, so if you're faint of heart, or triggered by these, I suggest you skip this one. For everyone else, have fun! ;)  
> Also, the first chapter is a prologue, and it's quite short.

“...Just like the pied piper

Led rats through the streets

We dance like marionettes,

Swaying to the symphony...

Of destruction…”

 

He bit down on the arm of the man trying to shoot him. He felt the blood in his mouth, and it drove his rage even further. He tore the limb off from it’s owner, baring his fangs at the small group of hunters, who were all around him. He can’t get out of this alive, he knew. He rose to his hind legs, and with one powerful blow, he sent the bleeding and screaming injured hunter flying into the crowd of his comrades.

The seven feet tall furry ball of rage seemed indestructible, as it dawned on the nearby standing young man, who tracked the monster down. Edward hid behind a row of seats, well above the stadium-turned-slaughterhouse, and cursed himself. Ever since he found the pictures of the man – if he could refer to a werewolf as such – and his wife – now barely more than some charred bones in a heap of ash – he knew the pair was hiding something sinister. But he was a man of reason. A scientist with a hobby that involved historical facts. But what he saw was beyond science, as we know it.

The werewolf threw armed men around like they were ragdolls. Ordinary bullets seemed useless against him, and every time the creature sustained a wound, it healed quickly. Edward inhaled and reached to his pocket. He had two silver-coated bullets, made hundreds of years ago, by his ancestor. He tried to load them into the clip of his own handgun, but he failed, and had to search for the bullet that rolled away from him on the ground. He tried not to listen to the screams of dying hu8nters and the howl and growls of the werewolf. He found the bullet, and successfully inserted it into the clip next to its sister, and loaded the gun. Suddenly there was silence. Dead silence, and then a distorted, but utterly human voice called out in a sing-song tone, that was thoroughly laced with bloodlust.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

Ed hid even deeper behind the rows. He felt his blood freeze in his veins, as he peeked out from behind two seats, to witness the werewolf slowly climbing the stairs leading to the auditorium.

“I know you’re still here!” he heard the wolf-man saying. “I can smell that you’re afraid…And you better be!” the creature’s clawed hand smashed down a seat, and tore it out from it’s place effortlessly. It then threw the piece of public furniture into Ed’s direction. The young man scuttled away, hoping to make as little sound as possible. Then he heard a loud thump, and saw a wolf-like muzzle, and a pair of arctic blue eyes, gleaming with hatred and rage. “Gotcha!” the werewolf sang on his unusually high-toned voice, before lashing out with his razor-sharp claws. Ed was lucky, for he threw himself backwards the same moment the werewolf’s claws drew sparks on the metal frame of the seat that was behind his head just seconds ago. He rose to his feet and ran. The creature was faster, and he could jump twice the distance as an ordinary human. He was in front of Edward a moment later. “You can’t run away from me…” he said, standing on two feet, towering over the already not too tall Edward. He backed away, and fell over the remains of an unfortunate hunter. He levelled the handgun and pointed it to the creature’s heart. “Oh, come on…” the werewolf taunted, spreading his arms and tilting his head. Edward shot, and hit the werewolf’s arm. It yelled, and the silver did its effect: the wolf-like creature began to shrink and twist in agony, as he turned back to his human form. "Bloody hell!” he spat, breathing heavily after the ordeal of transformation. Edward stood up, and took a step closer, gun in hand. He was shaking visibly, despite the fact that the fierce creature now was nothing more than a wounded man in torn jeans and combat-boots, or at least what was left of them. When he got close enough, he stopped. That moment of hesitation was enough for the monster to grab his hand and press the pistol to its head.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked, on a surprisingly low tone. Edward realized why he hesitated. Killing a rampaging monster was one thing. But shooting a wounded man in the head was another. “I..ah…I can’t…” he stuttered. He was shocked when the werewolf started to laugh bitterly. “Didn’t think so…” He hit Edward’s left leg, and the young man heard his shin protesting. He still didn’t pull the trigger.

“DO IT!” he heard the monster yelling at him. “You took my only reason to live, now you can’t just walk away from me!”

Edward fought himself back to his feet. His left leg was definitely cracked, if not broken, but he could still move it, so he figured the damage wasn’t that big after all. He backed away slowly, this time being mindful of the dead bodies littering the way. “You are weak, just like your forefather was…” the werewolf said bitterly. “If you leave now, I will track you down. I will kill everyone and everything you ever loved, you hear me?” Edward stopped. The werewolf’s voice was low, deeper than his usual sing-song falsetto, and there was an undertone of devastating sadness and pain in it. “I WILL DESTROY YOU!”

Edward turned back and looked the creature in the eye. As far as his knowledge about him went, John Graves Simcoe never made idle threats. He levelled the gun, with the last silver bullet in it. The werewolf sighed and closed his eyes. He was ready. Edward was thinking of how the whole thing began when he saw the curious couple a few months ago.


	2. Blood of the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of how John met Elizabeth, and how did she become a vampire, and how did this affect their marriage. A glimpse of a hidden world of various warring vampire and werewolf fractions will also appear throughout the story, and I would proudly say that any similarity between them and a tabletop RP game called "World of Darkness" is not entirely a coincidence. (I was -and still am- an active player/storyteller)

O Hai! Guess what will I spam you guys with again? XD That's right, I spent time and some creative juices making two collages for this story as well. (Please don't shoot me! I can't help it.)

[Our Wretched Lot - Old World](https://sta.sh/0mng7q06zcz), [O.W.L.- Modern](https://sta.sh/01ktrao6jibc)

Once again, please forgive me for spamming you with these... ^^;

                                                               

* * *

 

_"…Intertwine the lines_

_that swim beneath the dark_

_Realize the pain we live in_

_Demonize the need we reel in_

_NO_

_In my memories_

_I’ll dig deep enough to know_

_Centuries of dreams unending_

_Another me that yielded tears_

_When someone had betrayed…”_

“You have earned the right to destroy me… Do it…” he begged, barely louder than a whisper.

“All nature is a circle of creation and destruction.” His nemesis answered. “And after so much destruction from this war, John… It is time to tend the garden again.”

He was left there, to rot. To die. But he couldn’t. His broken bones healed eventually, and his punctured organs were whole again. But his mind stayed broken. He wandered around aimlessly for a while before returning to his distant relatives’ estate, and only then his life turned upside down. He met her. A fragile flower, unknowing of his true nature. She seemed to be fascinated by the brooding, melancholic young man, tormented by his demons of the past. Her name was Elizabeth, and to John’s surprise, she finally was able to chase away his sorrow after a long time. But he couldn’t keep the Beast at bay for long. On full moon nights, he would run to the woods to be hidden from everyone. To keep her from seeing what he really looks like. He was thinking about what that annoying, self-righteous midget told him almost a year ago, while he was lying on a bunk aboard a ship. Nature is a circle of creation and destruction… He could understand nature, more than anyone. But after a while, people started to spread rumours about a big canine creature, attacking livestock at night, leaving huge paw prints behind. John had to keep his hunting trips to a minimum, only going out at full moon, when he couldn’t control his transformation and bloodlust. That was one night like that, when she realized that the man she was about to marry, is a monster. Elizabeth was reading in the library, when she heard a noise, followed by John’s pained screaming. She immediately sprung up, and ran to his room, but she found the door locked, and heard unnerving sounds of bones cracking, and John’s sobs turning to wolf like howls. Elizabeth ran downstairs, to alarm her uncle, John’s godfather about his distress, but the elder couple already were up and awake. They heard the window breaking, and she ran outside, just in time to see the huge, half-human, half-wolf thing jumping from her fiancée’s room, and darting to the forest. She went back to the house to see her uncle break into John’s room, but they found it empty. The curtains were dancing in the breeze, and they had a silvery shimmer in the full moon’s light.

Elizabeth was devastated, thought she lost John to something she couldn’t identify. But in the morning, he returned, and was frightened by her presence in his room. He was dirty, bloodied and arrogantly naked, his matted auburn hair cascading down to his shoulders covering his face with surprised arctic blue eyes that were fixed on her form. Elizabeth walked over to him, and didn’t even try to hide her curiosity. John quickly turned around, closed the window’s remains and pulled the curtains together, partly covering himself with them. “As I witnessed, there’s nothing you have to be ashamed of.” Elizabeth started, with a playful smile on her face. “But…” John tried to talk, but she dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “I will be your wife. Now I know what to expect on our wedding night.” He was lost for words, and his shame was pretty obvious. “But if we truly are about to bind our lives together…” she continued “I want… no, I need to know what happened last night. Where are your clothes? What happened to you?” Her concern was genuine; he could tell that. And he hated himself for having to lie to her. But does he have to? “Elizabeth…” he started, fearing what might happen the moment after he betrays his most protected secret. “What do you think, what happened to me?” he asked instead, buying some time. Elizabeth made a thinking expression, and turned her head towards the fireplace, while John desperately hid under his bedsheet. It was still very inappropriate, but at least he could cover more of his skin that way than with a patch of strategically placed curtain.

His fiancé then turned back to him, and sat on the side of his bed. “I don’t know what happened to you.” she confessed. “But I heard that you were in pain, and I was worried about you.” she reached out and held his dirty hand, and started to rub the dirt off from it with her handkerchief. John felt like a child. “You know that the moon was full last night?” he asked, allowing her to clean the small wounds on his hands with the water she brought over in a pitcher. She cleaned the blood and dirt off his face too, before answering. “I’m no woman of superstition.” she said, her voice sounded tired. “But all I could think after what I saw last night is that you are some creature of the night.” John felt something in his throat, that rendered him speechless. He just nodded. Elizabeth put her hand on his, while saying “But even if you are, that won’t change the way I feel about you.”

He smiled, and looked at her, but his eyes remained suspicious, cold even. “Elizabeth, do you mind, if I tell you a story?” he asked. She shook her head. “Years ago, during the war, I was out in the forest with my Rangers, searching for someone.” he started. “It was early summer, but the trees blocked most of the sunlight. I went a bit far ahead of my unit, and had to wait for them to catch up with me. I was planning on how will I scold and punish them for being too slow, when I heard a growl from behind.” he still shuddered as he was telling the story. “As I turned around, ready to defend myself from whatever animal that was dumb enough to pick me as their dinner, I was faced with a creature straight from a nightmare. Taller than me by heads, its form a distorted mockery of both man and wolf. And before I could even make a whimper, it was on me. I managed to hit its head, and somehow avoided its claws that put even my bayonet to shame, and could shove said weapon into its side before it tore into my leg. I lost my balance, and my wound was burning, like it was infected in the moment it was created. I thought I was done for, but then the Rangers came. They probably heard the noise.” He paused, looking into her eyes before continuing. “After that night, I had to stay in bed for days. I had a fever, and my leg was killing me, though the medic said the wounds he stitched up healed very fast. It took me a full moon cycle to turn into the creature I am now. My first transformation happened on a full moon night, when barely anyone was around me. It was horrifying. The pain of it, the feeling of my bones and joints cracking and contorting, to turn me inside out and into a grotesque mix between human and animal. And after it was done, my whole world went black. I thought I fainted, but when I came to my senses, I was the way I am now, - naked, cold and covered in someone else’s blood - with dead bodies all around me.” 

Elizabeth was shocked, but something wouldn’t let her leave. She knew she should flee from the creature, but also wanted to stay. “So…” she spoke after a long pause “You’re a werewolf?” John slowly nodded. “And I might add if you tell anyone they’ll probably think you’ve gone mad. Or not, and I might have to kill you and flee. And I don’t want that.” Elizabeth leaned closer, and held his hand in hers again. “Could you?” she asked. John looked at her, and he knew he couldn’t do that. Even if meant that one person knows his secret, and probably can send an army of witch-hunters and the likes of them after him. He was confused. For the past decade and a few years, he had no problem with hurting people. Even if they did nothing against him, or were just in the way. But ever since Elizabeth’s eyes met his, he felt like there’s literally nothing he wouldn’t do for her. She meant so much to him, that the feeling was enough to tame his inner Beast. And yet it was harrowing to know she will reject him, and leave. “Now that you know my little secret” he spoke with a knot in his throat “Do you still want to marry me?” She smiled at him, and caressed his face before answering “I love you, John. No amount of fur can change that.”

So they got married in that December. She never told anyone about the cause of his frequent disappearances, always making up a story about a distant friend, or some urgent business out of home, so their elderly mutual relatives didn’t have a clue. Once, aunt Margaret asked Elizabeth about John’s seemingly painful bouts, that made his cries of agony heard maybe over in the neighbouring estates, and she answered with a story of a grave battle-scar that responded nastily to the changes of the weather. She carefully disposed of the pain-killer solution they gave her to make her husband drink it and maybe ease his pain, and always was waiting for his return. Cleaned his wounds if he got them, made sure nobody disturbs him if his temper was foul nearing the full moon, and he was grateful for her. And also, he was terrified of the possibility of harming her accidentally.

 But as their children were born, his fear made way for a different feeling. A need to protect them. Elizabeth agreed with him on not telling the kids about their dad being a werewolf. Or at least, not telling them until they are old enough to understand that it must be kept a secret at all costs. They even found themselves wondering about, what if one or more of their offspring inherited their father’s nature. So far, none of them showed any symptom that pegged them for more than ordinary human children. John and Elizabeth decided to learn what they can about the “exotic disease called Lycanthropy”, just to be sure what to do if it starts to show on their sons or daughters. They spent years researching – John took more share of taking care for the kids, so Elizabeth could study undisturbed – and finally found a cure. Or at least they thought.

“Wolfsbane can cure the disease, this tome says.” Elizabeth told him one night. “You need to make a potion from it, and drink or apply to the wound that transmitted the disease to you.” John put down the pen he was holding, writing a letter to his former military superior. “Are you sure?” he asked. “You know, after the last one, I don’t really want to try something, that ends up not working.” They found another miracle cure for Lycanthropy a few months before, and Elizabeth applied it to her husband, but it ended in a disaster and John disappearing for almost a month, before he was able to crawl back to his family again. Elizabeth sighed and closed the old book. “I don’t know.” She went over and sat next to him. “I’m not even sure if I want to cure you.” “How’s that?” he asked. Elizabeth looked in his eyes. “This…curse, or call it whatever you want, is part of you. And so far, I couldn’t find anything that was a working cure. What if I kill you accidentally?” He reached out and brushed a few locks of hair away from her face. “You know; I was asking the same question from myself ever since I met you.”

There was a moment of silence between them, before John turned back to his letter, and his wife asked “Why are you so busy with letters lately?” He paused, but then continued writing while he answered. “I got an assignment, and need my orders.” It just dawned on him that he didn’t even tell her the news. “We’re moving to Canada.” Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “We?” she asked. “You mean…” John interrupted her, with a concerned look on his face. “Just you and I. That country is wild and dangerous.” Elizabeth rose to her feet, and paced around the room like a caged lioness. “What about the girls?” she asked. John turned to her, and tried to calm her saying “Aunt Margaret and Mary-Ann will take care of them.” Elizabeth shook her head. “I can’t just leave our daughters behind!” Her husband walked over to her, and held her. “It will be the best for them. They are safe here.” Elizabeth leaned into John’s embrace, but she still protested. “Why should I go? I should stay with them.” She felt him placing his face on top of her head. “You know…” he said casually “There are plenty of new places there to paint, and to discover. I was assigned there to build a new city… To create a local gentry, and for attending to the political mess that comes with that.” He lifted his head and her face to look into her hazel eyes. “And you know that I can’t bear to be separated from you for long.” A smile spread over her face, as she held his hand. “You know John, I wonder how you are still able to talk, because your tongue is made of silver.” He mirrored her grin. “I go with you.” Elizabeth stated. “And I will talk with Aunt Margaret about the girls. Better she hears it from me, than to have one more thing to despise you for.”

 

Their first year in their new home went by quickly, with John being occupied with his task in establishing and managing a whole new town, and Elizabeth painting and secretly continuing her research about the cause and effects of Lycanthropy. They spent a lot of time separated, so it was no surprise that one night something bad happened. Elizabeth was heading home from a remote place in the forest, where she did some sketches, to paint later. She felt a sense of dread, and she was sure that someone is watching her from the trees. She sighed, told herself that her husband is a werewolf, so if she could survive bringing his children to the world, she can survive anything, then quickened her pace towards the road. She could already see the settlement’s rooftops, and the setting sun painted the leaves red. Elizabeth stopped for a moment, mainly to catch her breath, and then to remember her birthday, just days ago. She and John had a fight that day. Elizabeth knew that he has a great load of responsibility and pressure on him, and that he restrained himself from transforming ever since their first child was born, but still felt bad about it. She sighed, and was about to move forward, when something yanked her from behind, dragging her back to the trees. She screamed from the top of her lungs, hoping that it was loud enough to be heard from the closest cottage. It was her last thought before something sharp tore into her neck, and everything went black.

 

It was pitch black and cold, when she came to her senses. She felt the taste of blood in her mouth, so she panicked, and tried to sit up…then she realized she was already sitting. She was surrounded by trees, and according to the marks on the ground, she was dragged there. Elizabeth fought herself to her feet, not noticing the quickness of her movements, nor that she didn’t draw breath for what seemed to be an eternity. At first, she didn’t notice how well she sees in the dark. Then it all dawned on her… She reached out, to touch her neck, and she felt a deep gash, still open, and when she drew her hand back, she didn’t see any blood on it. The only thing she started to feel was an itch, as the wound on her neck was closing slowly, and a burning sensation in her throat, that wandered down to her stomach, followed by an ache of every vein in her body. She started to run, as fast as she could…which, in her condition, was faster than any human or animal was capable of. She ran to the road, and heard people talking, so she stopped. Should she go over to them and ask for help? Or better if she hides, maybe they belong to whatever or whoever attacked her… She chose the latter, and had to wait a long while, until the two men- one holding a lamp, the other a rifle – reached her hiding place. They almost passed her by when Elizabeth stepped forward and tried to speak, but her voice was muffled. Then she realised she has to take breath before attempting to call. “Help me!” she managed to say, and the two men turned around. She didn’t understand the horror in their eyes, and when the man with the rifle shot her, she felt an irresistible rage. She let out a loud, catlike hiss, then jumped at them. It all happened in a flash. Elizabeth killed both men and found herself drinking their blood. She stopped and threw the corpse of the rifleman down. The other one with the lantern lay next to her on the ground, with a gaping wound on his neck, but no blood. Elizabeth panicked again, then she realised that she can pick the corpses of two grown men up just like the dolls of her daughters. She hid the bodies in the forest, then ran away. She cried, and wiped her eyes with her sleeve, just to be terrified at the fact that even her tears were red as blood. Then she heard more men approaching, and a voice that was too familiar.

 “Find her!” Simcoe ordered another search party. “I swear I will torch this forest if anything happened to my wife.” The men saluted and left. John kept looking around, and eventually, he heard a small noise. Barely louder than a mouse’s squeak. Someone was crying nearby. He started to run towards the source of the sound, but all he found was more trees. And a curious scent… the werewolf in him recognised it immediately. Blood. Old and fresh. He heard leaves ruffle and he quickly turned around, to face a small form, wearing a cape. “John?” the figure spoke, and Simcoe felt like a rock fell off from his chest. “Elizabeth!” he said, taking a step towards his wife. “Stay where you are!” she cried out. He felt a faint scent again. “Darling, what’s the matter?” he asked, but stopped, eyeing her with suspicion. “I know that you already smell it…” she said bitterly, and raised her head, letting the hood of her cape fall off from her head, revealing her face. John didn’t even bat an eyelid, but inside he felt like the world collapsed on him. Elizabeth’s face was so pale, she could easily pass as a ghost, with streams of blood flowing from her eyes and staining her mouth, chin, and part of her neck. Her hands were also covered in the red liquid, and her nails seemed longer than they were the last morning they spent together. And she reeked of death…

“Who did this to you?” John asked on a low voice he always used when he was about to murder someone. “I don’t know.” she sobbed. “I was going home, and someone or something grabbed me, and…” She stopped crying and looked at him. “I killed two people.” she confessed. “They will be found, and I will be hanged… Or burned.” “Not if I can help it.” he inserted. He went over to Elizabeth, and held her. She felt cold, like the grave. “Hush now… I’ll take care of the bodies.” she nodded, leaning against his chest, and staining his coat with blood-tears. “We’ll get through this.” he whispered to her, stroking her hair. The search party came back, and he sent everyone home, claiming his wife was attacked by a large animal. Elizabeth hid her bloodstained face in John’s arms and his waistcoat.

They got rid of the two corpses that night, and made it look like an animal ate the unfortunate men. And it went like that for a long time after that night. Years passed, and people started to get suspicious of the pair, because – though in theory, both were in their late forties – none of the Simcoes seemed to be older than their late thirties. Elizabeth had a hard time adapting to her new, unliving state, and John found his dark side emerging from the depths of his soul once again, after that fateful night he had to rip the remains of two human beings apart. They had to concoct a tale about Elizabeth’s absence of daytime activities, and her newly found nocturnal lifestyle. John felt like he was back in the Revolution, covering his own trails of failed assassinations and misfired plans against a certain spy ring on Long Island. He still worked actively on his political and military careers, but it started to bore and annoy him to no end. He found that he is not the only creature of the night that went bump in Upper Canada’s forests and blooming settlements. A tribe of native werewolves confronted him one night, and he- though always eager to fight – barely managed to get away with his hide.

“We should leave this place” Elizabeth told him a few nights after. “Let’s go home.” “We are home, love.” he answered coldly. “Besides, what would you say to our daughters and son? How would you explain what happened to you?” She lowered her head and he continued on a softer tone. “We need to keep them safe. Even it means that we have to keep our distance from them.” Elizabeth sighed and wiped her eyes. She leaned closer to her husband. “People are gossiping.” she said. “I know.” he replied. “We will leave this city, and soon.” Elizabeth looked at him with curiosity. “Where are we going?” she asked. “Anywhere.” John answered. “Anywhere people don’t know us by face.”

 But in the end, they went back to their old home, and their children. As far as they’ve learned, werewolves were pretty common in Canada’s forest region, and they immediately attacked any intruder to their territory, especially if the violator was a vampire. Elizabeth took great care to conceal her true nature, but her feeding habits left trails, leading angered packs of wolfmen to their houses, hideouts, and havens wherever they went. John was badly wounded after a fight with a larger group of enemy werewolves, and he once again was on the edge of death. Elizabeth, though still oblivious to many facets of her powers and existence, acted upon an impulse, and opened her wrist, to feed her blood to her dying spouse. She was begging God, the Devil or any other entity out there, to help. After her wound closed, she was relieved to see John’s wounds closing and healing up as well. Then she panicked. What if she turned him into a vampire? Is that even possible?

 

He didn’t turn into a vampire, as she learned later. Her blood only quickened his regeneration process, and slowed his aging even more… Among the negative aspects however, Elizabeth found that her husband became somewhat obsessed with her. They were not in love anymore – as it was natural after a marriage that long – but still loved and respected each other. Now John was at her heel all the time, like a lovesick puppy. As much as she found it flattering and adorable at first, it quickly became a nuisance. After they moved back to their old home, this weird side-effect of her blood-donation faded and they were back to “normal”.

It was hard. Lying to their own children and friends, seeing them go about their own lives, while they were stuck in time. And as they soon found out, they weren’t the only one.

 

Elizabeth got an invitation to a club she never heard of, and she was more than worried. She convinced John to accompany her, and he was more than happy to oblige. As the couple entered the ballroom, everything went quiet. Elizabeth looked around, and saw pale faces, glowing eyes and smelled the faint scent of blood and rot. The room was full of vampires. And as she realized, every single one was looking at John, who donned his trademark archaic smile, while looking them in the eye. “Very nice pet you have, Milady.” she heard a croaking voice from behind a row of black-clad, vulture-like figures. Elizabeth felt her very own inner Beast growling. “John is my husband, not my pet.” she stated. A few of the vampires hissed, more of them laughed. The one with the deep, croaking voice emerged from the crowd, and showed his scarred, distorted face to them. “You better not say that out loud, dear.” he advised. “Vampire society looks down on such unions between our kind and the Lycanthropes.” John studied the scars on the vampire’s face and couldn’t hide his smile as he put the pieces of the puzzle together. Elizabeth heard the whispers of the other vampires present, damning her, mocking her and more importantly, laughing at her, the one who married an animal. She held John’s hand, and squeezed it, reminding him to stay calm. They suffered through the better half of the night before finally leaving - fleeing rather – the nightmare parade that was meant for Elizabeth to introduce herself to her elders. They were insufferably arrogant, cold, and inhuman. “Will I be like them?” she asked John, while they walked to their carriage. “No.” he answered on an instant. “You’re better than them.” “You’re just trying to cheer me up.” she looked up at his face with a sad smile. “I’m telling the truth, love.” he stated. “Don’t you believe your faithful pet?” Elizabeth looked like someone hit her in the face. “You know I don’t consider you my pet. We’re married because I love you, and respect you.” John chuckled. “Calm down, my dear. I was just joking.” Elizabeth couldn’t laugh. “Did you hear what they called you?” John shrugged. “I was called worse by my superiors in the army. Or by the townsfolk in Setauket.” They walked a little distance again in silence, then John helped Elizabeth into the carriage, and followed her, sitting in opposite of her. “They are at war.” he heard her saying. “The vampires and werewolves are at war.” He took her hand, and tried not to pay attention to the absence of her pulse. “I always loved irony.” he said aridly. “You have me. The walking corpses and self-righteous fleabags can very well go straight to hell if they have anything against our union.” Elizabeth finally permitted herself a half smile. “Let’s just go home.” she pleaded. The carriage with the curious couple went on its course back to Wolford Lodge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyric quote is from Epica's song, "Storm the Sorrow". (The one in the previous chapter is from "Symphony of Destruction", originally by Megadeth, but I prefer Nightwish's version.)
> 
> Up next: An Ancestor's spirit, or who is Edward Herschel-Hewlett, and how did he end up in a web of lies and dangerously close to a married couple of a vampire and a werewolf?


	3. An Ancestor's Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse of post-war Major Hewlett, and his discoveries regarding the supernatural. (No, not the show about two brothers and an awkward angel.)  
> Oh, and meet Edward, the Major's great, great, great... grandson. He's kinda socially awkward and cute, and just found his ancestor's diary. And he's on his merry way of visiting old historical sites, when he meets a couple that he first envies... then meets again in a history book about notable people of 18th century Canada.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what can I say? writing this chapter took me a bit longer than the previous one, mostly because personal life stuff. Also, OCs. I know a lot of fandom-people hate on OCs (disregarding the little fact that their favourites are also someone's OCs), but since Edward is basically Edmund reincarnated, consider it a misnaming...or not. ;)

_“Some legends are told_

_Some turn to dust or to gold_

_But you will remember me_

_Remember me for centuries_

_And just one mistake_

_Is all it will take_

_We’ll go down in history_

_Remember me for centuries…”_

Lightning struck the sky, and illuminated the dark woods, next to the sleepy village. Everyone was sound asleep, save for one man, locked up in an observatory of sorts. Inside, the man was hunched over a box, and was counting. “Two, three…One more…” The observatory was decorated with various things that created a sense of not belonging there. The high bookshelves contained volumes on both scientific and occult lore, a set of wooden stakes lay on one table, a worn out, silver coated knife on the other, and a small set of smith’s tools were also present next to the man, who counted his silver bullets, before closing the box. Edmund Hewlett never thought he ends up being the man he was now. After the war, and after what happened to the infamous Queen’s Rangers, he thought he can return to his life and his studies. But he was simply unable to. Having a strong sense of duty fused with curiosity, he devoted his life to study the obscure lore about the creatures of the night, along with returning to astronomy and mathematics. He strongly believed that everything he experienced over the colonies are perfectly explainable through science. He got some grudging support from his wife Caroline, whose disbelief of everything “superstitious” as she called it was just as firm as Edmund’s believe in their existence. He caught himself thinking of Simcoe every now and then. He heard that the Captain’s corpse disappeared from the carriage that was supposed to take him with the rest of the dead to their final resting place, and that the undertaker was found torn to pieces. Hewlett also knew about his nemesis’ return to the army after he forged some lie about what happened in Setauket and to the Rangers, including himself. Edmund remembered the night he once again teamed up with Abraham Woodhull to kill the monster, and the day that they failed. He took the responsibility to himself, and finally couldn’t do it. He let the beast go, with the stupid notion that he might change. He couldn’t afford that. Never again. So he learned how to make stakes from oakwood, and how to smelt, to make silver bullets, and how to find things that go bump in the night. He made a mistake by letting Simcoe go on his merry way. A mistake he tried to correct by hunting down many other Lycanthropes and a few vampires too. He also discovered, that he is not the only person after these unholy creatures. He met a few others, and exchanged experience and studies with them for a few months – Caroline wasn’t happy about it – and then hunted and executed a vampire together. Edmund believed that he will not spend his entire life in this messy business though. He had children and grandchildren, all of whom were oblivious of his occult connections from his younger days. He passed away leaving behind a legacy, hidden from all but the most curious of his descendants.

 

Speaking of curiosity and lineage, young university student Edward Herschel-Hewlett was the perfect candidate to find the left behind diary of his ancestor. He was shocked at first, thinking the heavily folklore and occult fused thing must be a ruse or a fake, but after he went to a few experts to gain information about the handwriting’s and diary’s authenticity, it was confirmed, that the journal indeed belonged to and written by his ancestor. Edward – still baffled, but not knowing what to do with it at the time – put the thing away to the shelf, where he kept his other books. One day though, he stumbled across an article about the American Revolution, and thought to dive deeper into it. He remembered his ancestor being part of that war, and he once again took the old diary and turned a few pages.

It was very informative and detailed, even contained copies of drawings from various known occultists, and Edward had a strange sense of it being too genuine. He once threw away the whole thing regarding it as fake, but after reading it through, he wasn’t so sure. His forefather also mentioned a former acquaintance of his turning out to be a werewolf, and he elaborated on the details of the damage that the monster had done to a town in Long Island, then later, still under the guise of a military officer, to various other places and even troops, enemy or allied. Edward also read the tale of his forefather’s “merciful” freeing of the creature, claiming that he “had a change of heart after he witnessed the monster showing signs of humanity and freeing his subordinates, urging them to flee as long as they were able to.” Young Edward, after reading his ancestor’s diary, and delved into whatever online or offline source of information he could find about the Revolution and his forefather, felt the need to personally visit every place he read about. His family wasn’t pleased of course, he should be working on his essays, and getting a diploma, but he convinced them that he needs some time off to relieve stress. His professors also agreed to let him pass a year, and come back again the next semester. Edward couldn’t believe his luck. He gathered everything he needed, and bought a plane-ticket, and flew over to the other side of the ocean.

It wasn’t as easy as he first thought. Not that he felt homesick or something, Edward was always a person, who regarded feelings as something secondary, inferior to thoughts and ideas. And – sadly – that was the main reason for his awkwardness around others, especially women. He just felt lost on what to do, or how to act. He – of course – had a strong sense of empathy, but he just couldn’t imagine himself to be attached to someone in any way. Or that anyone could be attracted to him, for that matter. Ed wasn’t conventionally handsome, rather he had a characteristic face, eerily similar to his ancestor’s, whose diary about mythological creatures followed his descendant in his backpack, everywhere he went. Ed wandered around in some states, visited Setauket, now a much bigger city, engulfed by similar cities, and finally rented a flat in New York. He even started his own diary, collecting rumours, stories, fun historical facts, and planned to start the next semester in a University in his new home. His experiences were pleasant so far, despite the few idiots here or there, who noticed his accent and demanded that he “go back to whatever filthy country he came from to steal their jobs.” Ed just shook his head in disbelief, and written a note to himself not to forget to read that book about Neanderthals. He strongly believed that they in fact, weren’t extinct, but lived among other humans unfortunately.

He was voicing his suspicion about them to his newfound friend Phil, the bartender, when he saw the couple sitting in the shadowy corner of the place called Crossroads, Ed frequented lately. They were unusual both in appearance and manners. Ed’s curiosity became stronger than his common sense, so he caught himself watching them through the bar’s mirror, and listening to their conversation. He instantly discovered that the man’s voice was annoying, and curiously high in tone for his size of six feet three, and in good shape. The woman opposite of him was much shorter, her voice lower, and she had an unnerving atmosphere to her. Ed noticed her eyes of golden-brown, that seemed to reflect the dim lights of the bar. The couple were holding hands, like they were on a date, but Ed saw that they have rings, so he deduced that they have been married. “Maybe they are freshly wed, not yet feeling disgusted by the sight of each other” he thought with a shudder. Marriage was just another of those unpredictable and obsolete fabrications of society he failed to comprehend. He caught a glimpse of the tall man’s eyes as well, as he turned around, maybe to see if the waitress is anywhere near. His eyes were light blue, and also had an unnatural glow. Edward quickly forgot about his gloomy thoughts, and found himself sketching the couple’s eyes into his notebook. He felt guilty though, like he was peeking into something he shouldn’t. The pounding electronic music that filled the air until now stopped, and a slow, bittersweet melody started to play. Ed knew the song, though he never really understood why it was still so popular. The couple were still talking, the woman smiling bitterly about something, the man whispering something to her, that made her unusually pale face light up, and she pulled him close for a kiss. “Forever is our today.” Ed read her lips, as hers parted with her husband’s. Ed chose this moment to leave.

 

He didn’t know what it was. Maybe his loneliness, maybe the simple frustration of a pair of lovebirds making out all the time, but Edward just couldn’t take their presence anymore. Days passed by and he didn’t see the couple again at Crossroads, but he sometimes still made sketches of them. After a month of idle, grey and dull pastime, he decided it’s time to move on. He left the US, and went to Canada, and visited one of his former high-school classmates, he was on so-called friendly terms. The friend’s family was very welcoming, his wife charming and very pregnant with their third child, and Ed once again felt out of place. His depressing thoughts made way through even the most intensive reading, and he confessed them to his friend one day. “I think I’m doing something wrong, Gary.” he said. “All of my former friends are either working on their PhD or something, or have settled and have families. And here I am, all alone, with no plans whatsoever. Other than assembling my own journals and memoirs of this journey to document my ancestor’s life of course.” Gary offered Edward a glass of wine and an advice “Don’t force it Eddie. Maybe life has other plans for you.”

Ed was still thinking of those words as he lay in bed, desperately trying to sleep. He decided to move out from here too before he wears out his welcome. But sleep avoided him, so he turned on the lights, went out to grab a book and shifted back under the blanket. He found a history book about notable Canadian politicians from the 18th century. He turned a page, read some lines about a fellow, and went to the next one. His intention was to lull himself to sleep with something boring, but he found the book to be interesting. After reading fun facts about a lot of people, he was about to put the book and his head to rest, then he saw the next article’s title, and a picture. Ed leaned closer to the page, like the big tome could run away from him anytime. The picture – or rather a photo of a painting – depicted the first lieutenant-governor of Upper-Canada, and he looked eerily alike with the man Ed saw at the bar a month ago. He closed the book, and tried to sleep again, but his dreams were tainted with blood red moonlight, and a huge, wolf-like creature chasing him, while an otherworldly, graceful woman in a white dress watched from a throne made of human remains.

 Ed woke up soaked in sweat. He barely slept for an hour, but in that nightmare it seemed to be an eternity. He got up, turned the lights on again, and quickly dug his ancestor’s diary out from his belongings, and searched for the part, where the renowned astronomer-turned witch-hunter described his nemesis as a tall, broad-shouldered young man with fiery hair and blue eyes like two pieces of ice. That alone would not shake Edward’s world, but when he read the line about the Colonel’s “Irritating, effeminate, high sing-song voice” he dropped the journal. He picked it up immediately, apologizing to his ancestor’s probably baffled spirit, and went back to the bed to bring the volume on Canada’s notable people. He sat there, reading Edmund’s words, and looking at the picture in the history book. Could that be the same person with the man he saw? He dismissed the notion as his mind playing tricks on him. If –and by no scientific means it is possible so there’s a huge if – the man named John Graves Simcoe would be still alive, he would be 265 years old. He barely looked older than 37. And another if – because again, no scientific explanation exists for such creatures – he is a werewolf, wouldn’t that mean he should might just be dead? As far as Edward’s knowledge of folklore and pop-culture went, werewolves weren’t immortal. And what about his wife, the pale woman in a white dress and high-heels? With the golden-brown eyes that seemed red when light illuminated them from the right angle? Was she another werewolf? Ed felt like his head started to spin. He closed the book, the diary, and shoved both on the shelf, before going to the kitchen to make some tea. “Werewolves and vampires doesn’t exist.” he scolded himself. “Only in those teenagers’ dreams who always dress in black and comb their hair to one side of their face.” He kept on muttering this to himself, but somewhere in his mind, he knew that this time, he may found something that could not be explained through science.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> \- Lyric quote belongs to "Centuries" by Fallout Boy.  
> \- Fun fact: "Crossroads" is a bar in one of my original works, and is frequented by supernatural creatures. And also, Phil the bartender is a demon, and he belongs to a friend of mine.  
> \- Queen's "Who wants to live forever" was quoted here by Elizabeth, and will return again and again throughout the fic. Sorry about that. (Btw, you know that I'm a "put-lyrics-everywhere-kinda-person". ;) )
> 
> Up next: Underworld: Rise of the Lycans... Er, I mean Werewolf: The Masquerade... Nope... Vampire: The Apocalypse... Aw, crap... Vampires vs Werewolves, and our favourite mixed couple in the middle of it. (Also, their point of view on meeting Edward.)


	4. Forever Is Our Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A century of travelling and the trials of a hidden war between vampires and werewolves of the world, seen through Elizabeth and John's eyes. (Also, their first impression of Edward.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!  
> First and foremost, I apologize for the long wait, and for this chapter having little to nothing to do with TURN, except for the protagonist being the tv-show's antagonist. It will be full of various minor OC's, references to various vampire-novels, films, games, and will be as dark and depressing as it can get, so if you're turned (pun not intended) off by this, I suggest you skip this one.  
> Also, please forgive me for the constant lyric quotes, I guess that's just how I roll.  
> Also-also, I will double-upload this weekend, so the next chapter will be up shortly after this. :)

_“Have no choice but be isolated_

_Struggling, left alone, apart_

_Pushed aside, made segregated_

_Struggling, left alone, apart_

_See, I have no choice but be isolated_

_Threatened, forced to extract the heart_

_Pushed aside, made segregated_

_Have no choice but be…”_

It was a stormy night with heavy rainfall and dark clouds covering the moon. A small group of motionless figures were staring at a dark mansion. If someone looked at them from far enough, they appeared utterly human. Closer look would make anyone doubt that. They were all in black, like a group attending to a funeral, with eyes glowing in the night, inside pale faces that belonged to living ghosts. One of the silent watchers turned to another, and asked him a question. “What did you say, how should we get inside?” The other black-clad ghost answered “It won’t be easy. We have to get through the guard dog. Did you bring enough silver for that?” Swords flashed along with a lightning.

 

Inside the pitch black building, a woman paced to and fro in a room, while a man stood at the window, staring into the darkness outside.

“They’re coming for me.” she whispered. “John, they’re coming for me. I know it.”

The man turned away from the window.  “They won’t get you.” he said in a low but confident tone. “They won’t get through me, no matter how many of them coming.” The woman stopped, and looked at him with the two burning coals that were in her eyes’ stead. “This isn’t the first time they try to kill us. What if they succeed?” He growled lowly, maybe out of frustration, or anticipation. “Many people tried to kill me. It’s not as easy as one might think. You go and lock yourself up. I will tell you if it’s over.” She held him close and took a deep, but unnecessary breath. He stroked her hair, and put his index finger under her chin, to lift her face up. “I love you, Elizabeth.” She flashed a smile, that disappeared in an instant. “I love you too.” she whispered. “That’s why I don’t want to lose you.”

But she did what he said. Again. After their visit to the Vampire Court, almost a decade ago, Elizabeth wondered when the undead will decide to hunt her and her husband down. She stayed away from vampire politics, tried to fit in with humans instead, and that was where she made a mistake. People were gossiping about them, their ageless features, that their children looked older than them, and that they somehow always felt uneasy in the Simcoes’ presence. Her always declining daytime activities also raised suspicion. John did everything he could to protect her secret, but gossip eventually reached the Vampire Court and its Regent, and the first hunting party came. They were surprised by the huge werewolf waiting for them, and got eradicated, their ashes sent back to the Regent by John with a note that said “Better luck next time.”, and signed.  It was after that night, they decided what to do. John, who supposed to be already in his early fifties, yet looked no older than his late thirties, faked his death. Elizabeth had a hard time attending to the fake funeral, even with the knowledge of John being alive, and that he will dig his way out of his grave (a detail he told her with his usual smug half-smile). She felt loss she never again wanted to feel. They both agreed on to leave their already adult children behind, to live their own lives, and keep all the undead and occasional werewolves away from them. The couple already had to move around a lot, to conceal Elizabeth’s feeding habits, which she strictly narrowed down to people who were already dying or were criminals or other kind of wrongdoers. John got rid of the corpses, and no one ever suspected anything. If only the rumours wouldn’t emerge about the disappearances. Elizabeth stared at her reflection in the mirror above the dresser. She was genuinely surprised that she in fact has one. All she learned from Eastern-European folklore was that vampires have no reflection, cast no shadow, cannot enter places they weren’t invited into, and that they cannot cross running water. Many of these turned out to be false, for she could enter places without invitation, had both a shadow and reflection, and she was crossing multiple rivers in her unlife without any problems. What was true though, is the inability to tolerate sunlight. Elizabeth once tried to go out at day, and ended up being badly burned on all of her skin that wasn’t covered by her dress. She barely went out for a few minutes. She heard the other vampires approaching the house. She heard the cracking noises of John’s bones as he shapeshifted into a seven feet tall, furry war-machine. Elizabeth sat down to the ground, and covered her ears, though she knew it’s in vain. Her hearing was too sharp, she heard it all through multiple layers of walls and her own flesh and bones. Her chamber had no window, partly for protection from the sun, partly against uninvited visitors. She had no use for lights either, but she still kept a few candles burning. She discovered that some vampires were vulnerable to fire, and she thought that if all goes to hell, she still can hurl a candelabra at them, supposedly setting her attackers on fire. She kept on listening, her nerves on the edge with fear and malicious anticipation of her own inner Beast.

 The group of vampires were expecting to fight a werewolf, but even they were surprised of the ferocity and brutality of this one. Silver seemed to have a weakened effect on him, and he tore three of the five vampires to pieces before it forced him to revert to his humanoid form. He still was faster and stronger than a mere human, so the remaining two vampires tried to slow the werewolf down by exhausting him. Little they did know about who they were up against. It took a few seconds for John to shapeshift back to his wolf-human hybrid form, and simply break through walls, throw away heavy furniture and other objects the vampires could use as cover. He enjoyed it, the fight, the blood, the feeling of undead flesh ripping apart under his claws. It all reminded him of those days gone by. The vampires’ screams and screeches were tuned out, replaced by memories of some unfortunate souls from a whole continent away. His few moments of hesitation left enough time for one of the vampires to flee, while he was meticulously tearing the last one of his enemies apart limb from limb. When the undead body crumbled to dust, he collected all of the remains of this hunting party, and put them in a bottle. He went to Elizabeth’s chamber afterwards, and made a low howl, almost like humming or whining. She opened the door, and he descended to all four, trotting inside before changing back to his human form. He was still covered in blood and full of cuts and bruises, but his smile was telling her that he will be all right soon.

“Another delivery for the Regent?” Elizabeth asked. John’s smile widened.

 

They burned the house down and left the next night. Their children never heard from them again, thinking that their grieving mother was attacked by burglars and perished in the fire. Elizabeth didn’t look back, as the carriage took them away from their former residence to the harbour. John was hesitant to return to the colonies, especially after their constant battles with Canadian werewolves, but Elizabeth reasoned that Canada is much bigger, and they can always find new lives and new prey on the North American continent. They fought about it a few times before John finally accepting it grudgingly. The next thing to ruffle his fur in the wrong direction was his wife’s other request of him, she made during their journey on a ship to Canada. “Teach me how to fight!” she demanded. “No.” he replied in an instant. “Why?” Elizabeth asked. “What if we have to defend ourselves from a pack of werewolves? Or another hunting party of vampires? Or simply townsfolk, who discovered our secret? What if they kill you, John? Do you want me to remain defenceless?” He- again – had to accept that she might be right. After all, he couldn’t be sure that he alone can fight off armed humans and hordes of native werewolves and vampires, while defending Elizabeth. So he agreed. The other passengers and the crew of the ship started gossiping about the curious couple, who seemed to have a sort of military training on the deck at night. Elizabeth stared suspiciously at the serrated bayonet in her husband’s hand, which he turned around and handed over to her. “As far as my knowledge go about your kind my dear, this might come in handy.” he said. She took the weapon, felt its weight, and couldn’t help but think about the blood it spilled. She hated that piece of metal with a passion. “Pierce their heart through, and they will be rendered unable to move, so you can cut their head off, or throw them out to the sunlight.” John continued. “Or you can use it against humans.” Elizabeth frowned, then reminded herself that whatever nasty thing he teaches her about, she will decide if and when she will use it. “I forgot that you have a vast knowledge about how to inflict wounds, and how to kill various living creatures.” she chuckled nervously. “Now my knowledge is broadened to undead as well.” John added. “Firearms are nearly useless against both our kind, unless of course, you have a round of silver bullets, or something you can use to stab the thing with…as I said before.” Elizabeth nodded. John stepped closer to her. “You look like you’re afraid of it.” he stated, nodding his head towards the bayonet in her hand. “I don’t know…” she started “It just feels like it has a spirit of its own, a dark and malevolent spirit.” He held her in his arms, and leaned down to whisper in her ears. “A spirit of blood. I know.” She lifted the blade and saw a red shimmer on it in the moonlight. “Don’t be afraid of it, love.” she heard him say. “Consider it a part of my body. As it was, for long years. An additional claw, an extension of my hand. Now I have no use of it anymore, but you might.” Her eyes narrowed, and reflected the lanterns’ light. “A spirit of blood in a vampire’s hand. How fitting.” she said darkly, leaning her head onto his chest.

She learned how to shoot, how to brawl, how to cut and stab with the most efficiency and accuracy, learned how to run faster, hit harder than any human being. And all the while, she felt like losing her own humanity, whatever that meant in that context. On dawns, lying next to John, and listening to his heartbeat, she painfully felt the absence of her own, whenever she felt the warmth of his skin, she was reminded of the coldness of hers. Every time they made love she was reminded that they can never have children again, and that their children now could easily pass as their parents or grandparents. It harrowed her night after night, no matter what he tried to say or do. Elizabeth was grateful for John’s attention, but she knew that her dark thoughts won’t go away until she embraces the truth about her sad existence. They fought another pack of werewolves, shortly after arriving. But this time they weren’t fleeing. Elizabeth put everything she learned from her husband to good use unlike last time, when she was only trying to hide away until he was finished. The smell and sight of blood woke something up inside her, and she was just as ferocious and merciless as her spouse. Soon, the werewolves learned to leave them alone. It was once again the vampires, who invaded the pair’s secretive lives.

 Elizabeth once again received an invitation but this time it was both for her and John. They were preparing for the worst, or at least the ordeal they had to go through with the British court, but it seemed Canada was different in that sense too. They were getting dirty looks of course, and the gossip that never seemed to go away, but not the outright hostility that defined their first meeting with the vampires of their old home. The Regent here seemed to be friendly, though a bit offish with the werewolf among them. He reminded John of Major Hewlett. He decided that he will not trust the vampire, and probably will kill it on first opportunity. There were others too that reminded him on his days on Long Island. The second-in-command of the Regent, a sly vampire with beady eyes and a tendency towards being a nuisance, a female vampire with dark hair and eyes, which always kept him in her sight…

“You seem lost in thought.” he heard his wife’s voice and he looked at her. “I’m sorry.” he said. She held his hand. “No need. This place unnerves me too.” He nodded. “How about we leave, and never look back?” John asked. Elizabeth leaned her head on his arm. “We just arrived here. Maybe this time, the undead will leave us alone, if we make a good first impression. I know you prefer a battlefield to a social event, but please bear with it for just a little more.” she asked. Simcoe flashed a dark look in the vampires’ direction then nodded. “Certainly, love.”

So he had to go through with being like an attraction of a freak show. Again, and again. Every single time the Regent wanted to talk with Elizabeth. And for some reason, he wanted to talk with her a lot.

“…So, you don’t know who was the one who passed the Gift to you?” the Regent asked. “How curious. Most of us here know who made them, or at least have some suspicion.” Elizabeth sighed and glanced at her cup filled with sticky, dark red liquid she was reluctant to touch. “The circumstances surrounding my… Transformation were quite… unusual, to put it lightly.” she answered. “And what about your husband, Mrs. Simcoe?” the other vampire glanced curiously at John’s direction, who was pretending to be occupied with examining the bookshelf not too far away from the two undead. “I don’t know about it.” Elizabeth confessed. “He was afflicted with Lycanthropy ever since I knew him.” The Regent brushed his ebony hair out of his face that expressed genuine interest. “I’d never imagine that our city’s founder is one of the Wolf-folk. Or that his wife is one of our brethren. It is the most fortunate turn of events.”

“What do you mean?” John interrupted. The Regent smiled, showing just a tiny bit of his fangs. “You see, there are countless other bloodsuckers, who would glad to see me fall. But if I could ensure that our friendship is mutual, it would be beneficial for all of us.” Elizabeth looked at John, who had his usual expressionless mask on. “I’m listening.” he said, and the Regent gestured for him to take a seat next to his wife. “Well, I know that you had your estate written over to your children, along with almost all of the family wealth, so you’re basically drifters in fancy clothes.” Before any of the couple could protest, the vampire raised his hand. “I can, and will do provide you with an adequate haven and even a fair allowance on one condition.”

 John wasn’t happy about how the events of their lives turned out. He was still thinking of the conversation they had months ago with the Regent, and how he ended up with a collar around his neck. Elizabeth was also bitter because of the nature of their agreement, but they couldn’t help it. They needed a place to stay. So, they roamed the dimly lit city streets, or the dark woods at night, hunting for supposed traitors, invaders or political rivals of their undead master. As John kept thinking about it, it wasn’t really different from his former military life. He could get used to it. Lizzy on the other hand, had a hard time dealing with the dark nature of their existence. She followed John like a shadow, helped him get rid of the Regent’s enemies, but always chose to hide away for the remainder of the night after their deed was done. She was ashamed and hurt by all of it, John could clearly see that.

He confronted her about it one night, asking what she thinks they should do. “I don’t know.” Elizabeth sighed. “But I know I hate the Regent, hate that we are his pets, and have to do his bidding.” John looked at her with his expressionless face, and asked. “What is exactly what you hate that much?” Elizabeth turned away from him. “You don’t see it, don’t you?” she asked sadly. “All the pain and misery we caused, and for what? To further some agenda, we ourselves don’t know anything about?” John hugged her from behind and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You worry too much, love.” “How can you say that?” she added with clear umbrage. “I fought for a King and his agenda… It’s not that different.” he answered. “History has a way of repeating itself over and over.” Elizabeth still seemed concerned, so he continued. “I hate the Regent just as much as you do. Yet I still do what he wants me to do, for our sake. I have nothing against hierarchy, - maybe being partly wolf has to do something with it – but I hate to follow an unworthy leader.” Elizabeth leaned to her husband and looked into his eyes. “They are monsters…” she said bitterly. “We are monsters.” John added. “Tell me love, how many people met their fate in your hands? And what do you think, how many met their fate in mine?” Tears of blood ran down her cheeks as she once again had to face the harsh reality of their nature. “I feel like I’m losing my last shreds of humanity.” she confessed. “You will not.” he said confidently. “You’re better than them.”

 “You’re better than them.” this was the line that kept her from going insane through all those long years. Elizabeth followed John through the turn of the 19th century to the 20th, the two great wars he fought in, finding that battlefields were full of easy prey, and she could feed without causing real harm. The men she drained were dying anyway. Elizabeth became an angel of death, walking through battlefields and graveyards at night, causing the soldiers on both sides to fear the darkness. They wandered around the whole world, even returned to their home in England for a brief time, pretending to be their own descendants, meeting the last living members of their family. But as they soon found out, the undead didn’t forget them. They had to leave quickly, before the hunting party got them.

They went back to the other side of the ocean. The changing world eventually fascinated both of them. Elizabeth decided to once again, risk the company of humans, and leave the tedious and hypocritical courts of vampires behind. John was more than happy to shake the Regent’s leash and collar off his neck. They were drifters again. But this time, it meant freedom and to some degree, happiness to them. They could go wherever they wanted to. John learned how to drive and ride a motorcycle in the second world war, so transportation wasn’t really a problem. Sunlight was. They had to paint the glass of their car black, so no light could pass, but they got stopped by police officers on the road often because of the suspicious tinted glass. They sold the car somewhere around the start of the war in Vietnam, and settled for a few decades in a small town. Eventually, people became aware that they don’t seem to age and Elizabeth only comes out at night.

The 1980s came and they left their haven, burned to the ground as always. They never spent much time in one place after that. It became their life, city after city, prey after prey. A biker and his dove, out on the highway. This is how they ended up in New York, at the infamous bar called Crossroads. As they entered the place, Elizabeth saw a small group of vampires discussing business around a table, a werewolf sulking in the corner, only looking up at John when they walked past him, and many other creatures of the night. She felt uneasy, as they settled next to a table near the bar. Sometimes, she missed the sophisticated cafés and bars of the long lost 1920s, or 30s. Modern clubs and their mechanical noise didn’t fit her taste. John had no problem with them though. “I feel so out of place.” she sighed. He reached out and held her hand. “Time and place has no real meaning for people like us.” he said. She was listening to the old Queen song that played in the background. “Forever is our today” she quoted with a bittersweet smile. John turned around and tilted his head like he saw something. “What is it?” Elizabeth asked. “Oh, I just thought I saw a familiar face.” John turned back to her with his usual half-smile. “That bloke sitting at the bar really reminded me of someone I knew. Long ago.” Elizabeth raised her brow. “Really? Who?” John’s smile darkened. “An adversary of little note.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for suffering through it! Again, I apologize for your disappointment, the next chapter will be less "OC-heavy" than this was.  
> \- Chapter title is a quote from Queen's "Who wants to live forever".  
> \- Quote in the beginning is from Chiasm's "Isolated".


	5. There are more things on Heaven and Earth...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward discovers Lizzy and John's deadly secret, and follows them. He also raises the attention of an organization that dedicated themselves to the destruction of all supernatural creatures. The sad conclusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there again, dear readers! I apologise for the rushed nature of the former chapter and also for this one, but I really had little time to work on this fic, also I didn't want to ramble too much around with history, being a lazy arse and not doing hours of research into every time period our dear immortal anti-heroes lived through. Again, I sincerely apologise, I have no excuse for that. Also, this will be the last chapter of the story, but since I couldn't really decide how to end it, I will post a sort-of alternate ending soon after this one. Angst and feels warning, also major character death warning. Proceed with care!

_“Let the rain fall down_

_Let it fall to the ground_

_Let the rain fall down to the ground_

_And the birds don’t sing_

_No they don’t make a sound_

_When you’re six feet under ground_

_Well they cast me out_

_When the word spread around_

_That I never sang in the church_

_And it took one night_

_To the town to decide_

_I’m afflicted by the curse…”_

Edward kept thinking of the strange couple he saw months ago in New York. He worked at a bookstore in Los Angeles, stuck there when he ran out of his allowance, and he didn’t want to write back home to his parents. Besides, he liked his job. And he loved books. What’s not to love, right? The store was in a run-down part of the city, and most people there didn’t seem to know how to read, so the bookstore’s clientele was small. Long hours passed daily without a soul wandering in. Edward was bored out of his mind most of the time. He was at least allowed to read some of the books if nobody were in the store. He found some interesting volumes on werewolves and vampires – these themes being somewhat trendy in the past few years – so he was reading them. One evening, maybe an hour before closing time, a customer came to the store. Edward felt the uneasiness he read about in one of the books. It was the man from the couple he saw at the bar. He didn’t seem to be anything unusual, just flipped through books, picked up old CDs no one bought anymore, turned the pages of a few comics and finally stopped at the counter, towering over Edward. “Excuse me…” he started. “I’m looking for a book, but I can’t seem to find it. Maybe you can help.” Ed looked up and nodded. “Of…Of course. Which book is it that you’re looking for?” The tall man seemed to think for a moment before answering “It’s called, “Dreams in the Witch House”. My wife desperately wants to read it, but I can’t seem to find it anywhere.” Ed blinked and flipped through his inventory notes. “Ah, Lovecraft!” he exclaimed. “Sadly, we don’t have anything from him at the moment. We had a copy of “Shadows over Innsmouth”, but we just sold it yesterday. I’m sorry.” The tall man smiled, but it felt forced. “Pity. I have been literally all over trying to find that book for her. Anyway, thank you for your time!” he turned around, and almost went out the door, when Edward stopped him. “Sorry, but I just had to ask… Have we met? You seem very familiar.” Steel-blue eyes looked at Ed, freezing his blood. “No, I don’t think so.” the tall man said on his sing-song, yet unnerving voice. “Right.” Ed smiled awkwardly “Goodbye then!”

He had that recurring nightmare ever since he found the paintings in that history book, in his friend’s house in Toronto. The wolf chasing him, and the pale-skinned, dark haired woman with glowing red eyes watching over. Ed re-read his ancestor’s journal a hundred times ever since, and now he had a firm belief that the man he saw at the Crossroads bar and later in the bookstore is one and the same. Coincidence? Edward didn’t think. But why would that creature follow him? He’s an ordinary person, just a university student, trying to get his life together, stuck in a crappy job at a bookstore. He couldn’t get his head around it, no matter how hard he tried. The first strange death caught his attention in the newspapers. Someone was found torn to shreds and drained of blood on the Santa Monica Pier. The police didn’t want to raise panic, but Edward read about another similar murder case a few weeks prior, and it happened in Long Beach. A few weeks later another body turned up in Griffith Park. Edward tried to figure out the numbers, but they didn’t want to add up. He had a creeping suspicion, but he disregarded it as being too superstitious, and nobody would believe it. After all, no witnesses mentioned either a tall man or a woman in white.

On the same evening, when Edward faced his creeping suspicions about the supernatural, John just confirmed his own suspicion. The bookstore guy looked like someone he thought to be long dead and gone. Not just looked like him, even sounded like him. The same stuttering, the same offish demeanour, everything. Elizabeth didn’t know why her husband chose to stay in LA for months now, but after she saw the expression on John’s face, she thought she has an idea.

“So, he’s some kind of a reincarnation of your former nemesis, or something?” she asked, sitting on a couch and pretending to read a book. John paced to and fro in the room, his index finger tapped tirelessly on his crossed upper arm. “I don’t think so.” he said aridly “Must be some sort of a grand-grandson. A descendant.” Elizabeth closed her book and put it on the coffee table. “And you think he knows about us?” John stopped. “No, but he asked if we’ve met before. So he probably remembers us from Crossroads.” Elizabeth shrugged. “That doesn’t mean anything. If we avoid him, he’ll forget. That’s how humans work.” John leaned over the couch’s back-rest, looking at his wife. “What if I don’t want to avoid him?” he asked. “You know how that will end.” she answered. “We didn’t survive this long because we were careless. You said it, not even a month ago.” He flashed his trademark archaic smile at her. “Anything I say can be used against me, eh?” his smile faded and he turned his head away from her. “I think we shall move on from here. Shame.” Elizabeth caressed his arm. “Eventually, we have to move on from everywhere. Remember the mugger we caught?” John nodded. “What’s with him?” Elizabeth took the newspaper from the coffee table and showed him the article. “I thought we dropped the carcass into the water.” John scoffed. “We did.” Liz added. “But it washed ashore a few miles away. We have to be more careful.”

Ed was dreaming again. The same dream. He was running through a long corridor this time, the creature behind him, howling and growling. He heard whispers of the Damned, trapped inside the corridor walls. At the end, he saw a staircase, and the Lady in White standing on top of it. “Surrender!” she whispered, but he heard it so loudly like she was yelling at him. The wolf was almost there, almost caught him. He had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.

He opened his eyes and sat up. His room was dark, so he turned the lights on. And startled when he heard the noise outside. It sounded like something knocked the trashcans over. Ed got up, took his shoes on and went out to see what happened. At first he scolded himself for being a typical stupid horror-movie victim, investigating a noise he shouldn’t but then he took a deep breath, told himself it’s only a raccoon or some other animal native to the area, and went out. What he saw wasn’t a raccoon. It was a wolf. A huge, red-furred wolf with piercing blue eyes, and a missing ear. It did knock over the trashcan though. “Holy…” Edward managed to mutter before the animal took a step forward to his direction. He quickly went inside and shut the door. He’ll sort the mess later in the morning. He wasn’t sure if he should call pest-control or not. After all, the wolf could be someone’s pet, as far as he knew.

Elizabeth wasn’t surprised, but wasn’t happy either with her husband’s new obsession. She knew John is playing a dangerous game with that human. He came back to her still in his dire-wolf form, wagging his tail happily. “I’m still mad at you.” she scolded him. John made a whining sound and lowered his head, still looking at her. “Stop it, your cuteness won’t make up for the danger you got us into.” Liz stated, but she felt her resolve shaking. John poked her with his muzzle. “No, I’m telling you!” she said. Another poke and a squeaking sound came along with puppy eyes. “You’re good at this, you know?” Elizabeth found herself smiling. The wolf stuck its tongue out and made an expression very similar to a huge toothy grin. “Let’s go home. It’s almost sunrise!” Liz said, and started to walk away. John glanced over to Edward’s house again, and followed his wife. When they got home, she waited until he changed back to his human form and got more or less dressed before confronting him about his reckless trip to the bookstore clerk’s backyard.

“Are you that bored?” Liz asked. “You could have told me, and we’d pack up and go, see if the grass is greener elsewhere, you know.” John still had that playful half-smile on his face. “The guy made me curious, to be honest.” he answered, while pulling up his faithful pair of jeans. Elizabeth went close, and placed her hand on his back. “Curious, you say? And why is that? Because he’s from the family of that former acquaintance of yours?” John stopped with dressing up and turned to his wife. “Maybe it’s because of that. Maybe it’s because I want to know if he’s any different.” Liz ran her hand up and down John’s back as she leaned her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “I know you’re lying, John Graves. You’re up to something, and you don’t tell me, because you know I would be against it.” He laughed, but she knew she was right. They’ve been together for more than a century. “You see into my soul, love.” John told her. “I swear I will not do anything reckless, right? Just get to know our Edward a bit better.”

So Edward got nightly visits by both his nightmare and the animal that induced it. Sometimes he caught an old, worn black bike parking near the bookstore, and sometimes, when he closed the store and went home, he heard wolf howls. He shook it off, thinking his mind is playing tricks with him. Then he saw the red wolf again, sneaking around in his backyard. It managed to stay away from the trash can this time. Edward felt reminded to the unusual proportions of the animal, as he was looking at it from his window. He saw a normal grey wolf once at a zoo, but this red one was a giant. And it was unusually fast too. He vanished into thin air if he caught Ed staring at him for long. He felt like being watched all the time, and dark places filled him with a sense of dread. He was so tense he shuddered when he heard a dog barking. “I can’t take it anymore, I’m sorry.” he said to his – now former – boss on the day he quit the bookstore job. “I wish I wouldn’t let you down, but I just need to get away from here.” “You look terrible, Edward, better take your time, and maybe see a doctor too.” the owner of the bookstore said. Ed nodded and left, with nowhere to go and nothing to do. He planned to move away from his house. He couldn’t afford the rent anymore anyway. He packed his things and moved to another house. But the nightmares followed, along with the nightly disturbances and wolf-howls.

“Seriously, you need to stop this.” Elizabeth asked. “You put us in unnecessary danger. Forget that human and let’s go to another city. We’re too close to be discovered.” Her concern wasn’t without foundation, as the corpses of their former victims came back to haunt them in forms of breaking news and investigations, she became tense. “We’ll go tomorrow.” John said after long minutes of silence. They were sitting on his bike, near Edward’s new home, and were watching the young man’s window go dark as he probably turned off the lights to sleep. “Tomorrow.” Liz scoffed. “Always with this, John. Let’s go now! Tomorrow might be too late.” He didn’t want to upset her even more, but he also didn’t want to leave just yet. He started the engine though, and drove away, back to their haven. They found the door bashed open, and their things thrown across the floor. Someone was looking for something. “Is this enough a warning for you to finally get the hell away from here?” Liz asked looking at the mess their anonymous attackers made. “Imagine what would happen if these guys catch us here.” John looked just a little bit concerned, and very angry. “If we’d be here, it wouldn’t even happen.” he said aridly. “Whoever did this, was waiting for us to leave. They were searching for something.” They gathered everything and checked of anything is missing. “Oh, brilliant” Liz said sarcastically “We got robbed.” All of her jewels were missing along with some of her more expensive dresses. She couldn’t really care though.

Ed was relieved when the nightly visits of the big red wolf and his nightmares stopped. He resumed his studies, and almost forgot it all, until the next victim was announced in the news. It was a small time criminal, found torn apart and drained from blood, just like the others. Edward turned off the TV and got his notebook and his ancestor’s journal. The numbers started to add up. This time he added himself into the equation. The nightmares, the strange events at night, and the frequency of the killings. It all added up. Ed didn’t know if he should see a psychiatrist and burn all evidence, or show it to someone, who could do something with it. He chose a third option. Next time, when the red wolf appears, he will follow it.

Tables have turned, and they knew it. Liz was on a hunt, luring some unfortunate lowlife gang member after her, and into a dark alley, but she felt someone watching. Was it another vampire whose hunting territory they invaded? Or a werewolf, curious about the newcomers so much that he or she dared to tread into the city? Or was it someone or something else entirely? Elizabeth didn’t know, she just wanted blood, and she didn’t want to resort to John’s blood. They have been talking about it a few weeks before. Despite the dangers of not knowing what effects a werewolf’s blood might have on a vampire, she bit his neck, and drained him of a little blood. She instantly felt rage and bloodlust she barely could control. She attacked him, and nearly drained him dry. He survived though, and his wounds healed quickly, but she never again wanted to do anything like that. They discovered that her reaction was because she was going hungry for long before drinking a werewolf’s blood, but Liz still didn’t want to risk another attempt in fear of hurting or killing John. She couldn’t imagine worse than to be forced to walk the alien place the world became, without him. More than two hundred years have passed, and he was the only constant thing in her life. The man followed her, just as she wanted. She glanced back, acted confused and took a turn to the alley. John was already there, lurking in the shadows on a metal catwalk one level above the street. Their victim was foolish enough to follow her into the alley, where she was waiting with a playful smile on her face. “Wrong turn.” Liz grinned.

Ed watched from the roof of the house as the vampire and the werewolf cornered their prey and as much as he wanted to help the poor man, he didn’t know what he could do. As far as he knew, he had nothing that would stop the monsters from doing their gruesome deed. He left the scene, long before he could hear the screams and the sound of claws tearing flesh. He wanted to do something. Help people. Let them know what kind of monsters walk the night. But he knew no one would believe him. The sight of the superhuman strength and speed of the vampire, playing with her victim haunted Edward, he caught himself sketching her face. Her beautiful face, drenched in blood, with eyes the same colour as the liquid dripping from her chin and fingers. Edward threw the sketchbook away and hid his face in his palms. There must be a way to stop them!

Sooner than he knew, he found someone who eventually became his saviour. He sat in a fast-food restaurant, sketching in his notebook, when someone accidentally bumped into him. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” he heard a voice and looked up, to a startled, dark haired and eyed young woman, then he looked down on his lap and the whole paper cup of orange-soda that got poured on him. “Oh, ohmy…” he stood up, and successfully bumped into her again. “Gosh, sorry!” he said, but she just looked at him, and started to laugh. “Let me get you a towel or something!” she chuckled and went to the counter to take a few napkins.

That’s how Edward met Ricki and her friends, all self-proclaimed paranormal investigators. At first, Ed didn’t believe them, but they seemed to know about the vampire and the werewolf in their midst. They had files with photographs and some notes regarding both John and Elizabeth Simcoe, dating back to the late 18th century. They even had an excerpt of Edmund Hewlett’s hunter diary, copied and sealed into plastic, so the paper can’t crumble to dust. Edward felt relief. So when Ricki asked him if he wants to join them, he said yes in an instant. Now he could track and kill these monsters, haunting his dreams and killing people in dark alleys. It took them a lot of time to figure out where the curious couple – Ricki and her friends dubbed them Carmilla and Fluffy – hides, but eventually they’ve found every hideout, every haven they could possibly use.

 And they knew that someone’s after them. Elizabeth stared at the full moon above the old, abandoned football field they decided to go to after their last hunt. They were just sitting beside each other, Liz leaning to John’s arm, feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt. She didn’t say a word, and he didn’t need to hear it. After a long while, she sighed and held his hand. “It was one hell of a ride together, wasn’t it?” John looked at her, his eyes glowing silvery as they reflected the moonlight. “What do you mean?” he asked, though he knew. “They are close. And I don’t think we can make it this time.” she answered. “We can try.” he added. “And we can go out with a bang.” Liz smiled at him, and pulled him down to kiss him. “Let’s send as many of them to hell with us as many we can.” John said. The hunting party came in from the corridor just when he finished his sentence. Ricki and her friends were prepared to fight supernatural creatures. They had loads of silver bullets, and a crossbow of sorts, that fired long metal spikes, they immediately used to immobilize the vampire. They missed, and Liz had another chance to use her superhuman speed to get close, and her strength to break the weapon. John also transformed into his hybrid form and the fight became a massacre quickly.

Ed stayed close to Ricki, and helped her with the crossbow-like construct. Another hunter was fighting with the vampire, so shooting it was risky, but Ed felt they might not have another chance. Elizabeth slit the unfortunate hunter’s throat with only her long nails, and made a cat-like hiss, as she heard Ricki crying out the man’s name. “I’ll burn you to ashes!” the huntress screamed at her. Liz showed her fangs in a grim smile. “Come and try it!” she answered. Ricki tore herself out from Ed’s arms, and jumped at Elizabeth. She was no match for a vampire, she knew it. But she had something the vampire did not: a hand grenade she armed just in time for it to detonate the minute she got close to the vampire and grabbed her. “Surprise, bitch!” she said before everything went black. Ed and John were yelling at the same time. The werewolf reverted back to his human form, and rushed towards the tattered body of the vampire. Elizabeth was still “alive”, though she was in a horrible shape. As she looked up at John, she smiled, and then she collapsed into a heap of ash and some bones. The werewolf was unstoppable. Blinded by grief and rage, he killed all of the hunters. All of them, except Edward.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked. Ed was still aiming at Simcoe, but he was hesitating. “I..ah…I can’t…” Ed stuttered. “DO IT!” he heard the monster yelling at him. “You took my only reason to live, now you can’t just walk away from me!” Edward was about to do just that. “You are weak, just like your forefather was…” the werewolf said bitterly. “If you leave now, I will track you down. I will kill everyone and everything you ever loved, you hear me?” Edward stopped. The werewolf’s voice was low, deeper than his usual sing-song falsetto, and there was an undertone of devastating sadness and pain in it. “I WILL DESTROY YOU!”

Edward turned back and looked the creature in the eye. As far as his knowledge about him went, John Graves Simcoe never made idle threats. He levelled the gun, with the last silver bullet in it. The werewolf sighed and closed his eyes. He was ready. Edward was not. But Fate spared him from pulling the trigger. He knew werewolves weren’t immortal. John could live for this long because he drank his wife’s blood once or twice in a few months. She didn’t want to lose him, so she fed him her blood to keep him by her side. With the vampire’s death, the effects of her blood faded as well. The werewolf’s hair began to fade to grey, and his skin began to crack, and turn into an ash-like material. It happened in a flash. Both monsters disintegrated into nothing more than ashes and a few bones. Edward lowered the gun. “Nothing lasts forever.” he said to the hovering flakes of ash, and turned his back on the scene, never to return. Some say he went back to his home in Edinburgh, some say he stayed in the US, others say he went insane. No one has ever heard of Edward again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyric quote from "The Dead can't testify" by Billy Talent. (The title is also a quote, Shakespeare I believe, but correct me if I'm wrong.)  
> Thank you again for suffering through it, I hope it wasn't as bad as I think it is.
> 
> Hint: The alternate ending wont'be that sad. ;)


	6. Alternate Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the title says, this is an alternate ending to the story.

“You took my only reason to live, now you can’t just walk away from me!” Edward was about to do just that. “You are weak, just like your forefather was…” the werewolf said bitterly. “If you leave now, I will track you down. I will kill everyone and everything you ever loved, you hear me?” Edward stopped. The werewolf’s voice was low, deeper than his usual sing-song falsetto, and there was an undertone of devastating sadness and pain in it. “I WILL DESTROY YOU!”

Edward turned back and looked the creature in the eye. As far as his knowledge about him went, John Graves Simcoe never made idle threats. He levelled the gun, with the last silver bullet in it. The werewolf sighed and closed his eyes. He was ready. Edward was not. He couldn’t make himself shoot. He lowered the gun, and turned his back on the werewolf. “Nothing lasts forever.” he said before disappearing in the dark corridor. John stayed sitting on the ground, feeling numb all over. He glanced over to the remains of his beloved Elizabeth, and he felt a teardrop running down from his eye, cutting a clear path on his dirtied face, followed by many. He never felt that weak before, but he didn’t even care anymore. After a while – he completely lost track of time – he heard footsteps. He didn’t move, just kept on staring at the moon, may it ease his suffering. “Came back to gloat?” he grated. “Did I atone for my sins, or you want me to suffer more?” The voice answering his rhetorical question was unfamiliar. “I came to help you.” John turned his face to the other man standing beside him. He had black hair, and eyes of the same cold arctic blue as John’s. “Help me?” he echoed. “You’re late then, mate. Everything went to hell quite long ago.” “I know.” the unknown man said. “I’m sorry. But I truly came to help you. We must go.” John didn’t want to leave, but didn’t want to stay either, so he fought himself to his feet. “Who are you, by the way?” he asked the unknown man, who stepped closer to him and helped him stand. “My pack mates call me Gavin.” the stranger answered. “Well, Gavin…” John said as he struggled with his injured leg to walk to the same corridor Edward walked out from “what is your agenda? Why do you want to help me?” Gavin helped John through the corridor out to the street, where he parked his bike next to John’s. “As I assume you already know, I’m like you.” he answered. “And I want to help you, because you lost the only thing that resembled a pack to you. Werewolves aren’t solitary creatures.” John looked at him with a cold gleam in his eye. “I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.” Gavin nodded. “Sure, I didn’t say that you need us. You were beating up whole packs of rivals all by yourself, I heard about that. But I want to ask you to give us a chance.” John shook his head. “Why?” he asked. Gavin let him go and stood in front of him. “Because we need a warrior. We are at war, John. With creatures and forces far more powerful and sinister than any vampire or corrupted political company. I knew you were the right one the first time I saw you. Sadly, you weren’t too communicative if it came to your own kin.” John raised his brow in surprise. “You were there at Crossroads.” he said. “I smelled a faint scent, before I got distracted by the hunter. It was you.” Gavin nodded. “I was about to approach you then, but things didn’t go according to plan.” John lowered his head. “And now Elizabeth is dead. Gone forever.” Gavin patted his shoulder. “We all lost loved ones to the hunters. At least you sent all of them to hell.” John shook his head. “Not all of them. One remained.” “Join us!” Gavin asked again “You can fulfil your vengeance when they aren’t expecting. Let them think you died. Rest for a while, heal your wounds, and strike back harder.” John looked at Gavin, and reached out, to grab his hand and shake it. “Where do we need to go?”

The rising sun painted the sky red above the two werewolves riding out on the highway. John was still hurt, grieving, but deep inside he felt the Beast rising from its ashes. He will have his revenge, and he will fight along with his new pack, whatever enemy they may face. As they left the last milestone, he turned his head towards the side of the road. He thought he saw Elizabeth’s form, in her white dress, and high heels, looking at him with a smile on her face. He blinked, and the vision was gone. John turned his face back to the road, and to the new life ahead of him.

 

                                                                                                                                                             END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading and for the nice comments! You guys rock, and you're the reason why I kept writing this fic and its sisters. Happy Halloween if you celebrate it, and happy October's end if you don't. :)

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you for reading! Any kind of feedback is appreciated, but not mandatory. :)


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